


it's my soul to sell

by remrose



Category: Macdonald Hall - Gordon Korman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remrose/pseuds/remrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Bruno and Boots did something stupid (and one time they did something smart).</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's my soul to sell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [throughadoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughadoor/gifts).



> Future fic since they're in university and modern AU since it's set in current times.

Bruno and Boots share a dorm room at the university, of course. There’s a corkboard on the wall that came with the small suite and the only things pinned on it are a 'Welcome to campus!' brochure, a handmade 'sorry for the things I said during Mario kart' card, and a coupon for a pumpkin flavored latte that their friend Donna with green hair who lived down the hall had insisted they take since 'it's midterms and you'll thank me later'.

Bruno would only admit it under extreme duress but he secretly loves pumpkin flavored things. It's almost six in the morning on a Tuesday, and that coupon is staring at him from where he's perched on his desk chair reading his notes just _one last time_ since he has his Poli Sci midterm is in three hours. He is a double major in Poli Sci and Drama because he couldn't choose between them. Boots is undeclared but is taking an awful lot of English classes for someone who says they don't want to be an English major. Boots awake as well, sitting on the floor cross legged with his laptop balanced between his knees. While Bruno has been catching up on his Poli Sci readings all night, Boots has been spitting nails about his English essay, where he only managed the minimum five pages about half an hour ago.

"Let's go get that latte." Bruno says, despite neither of having spoken since about an hour ago with Boots enunciating that he wanted to die and Bruno patting his hand sympathetically.

"What latte?" Boots asks, without looking up.

"Donna put that dumb pumpkin spice latte thing on the board weeks ago. Let's go get it." Bruno stands up and strides over, plucking it off the wall and waving it at Boots.

"I'm going to pretend I understand where this train of thought came from, and say yes, sure, I need to not be looking at this for like twenty minutes because I used the word 'important' eleven times in one paragraph." Boots snaps his laptop shut and jumps to his feet. "I still have a couple hours before I have to hand it in."

"Cool." Bruno pockets his wallet and keys. "Let's go."

Boots toes on his shoes and they leave, wearing only what they'd been in all night. Boots has a long sleeve shirt and plaid pajama pants, while Bruno has a black t-shirt and sweat pants.

About a block away from the house they realize their mistake. It's about 5 degrees Celsius at night and they didn't grab anything other than what they're wearing. They pass the walk by playing ‘Would You Rather’, where Bruno asks if Boots would rather have a very large cat or a very small dog (small dog, since the large cat sounds too much like the York Myrtle) and Boots asks if Bruno would rather lose a finger or a toe (toe, of course). Starbucks isn’t far, but they hustle inside with burning cold faces and fingers. It’s after six now, so there’s a small lineup.

Bruno slides the coupon to the worker once they’re at the front of the line and the barista frowns. “I’m sorry, we’re out of pumpkin spice.”

Bruno stares at her. “Are you kidding?”

“No, sorry.”

“This is a travesty.” Bruno says and Boots immediately groans. “This is injustice. How can you possibly be out of pumpkin spice?”

“Bruno—“ Boots begins, long-sufferingly.

“I won’t stand for this!” Bruno exclaims.

“It’s _just_ pumpkin spice.” Boots tries.

“ _Just_ pumpkin spice?” Bruno yelps. The barista is beginning to look really uncomfortable. “It’s an ideal! It’s the pinnacle of autumn! It’s—“

It really doesn’t surprise Boots that they get kicked out of the Starbucks into the cold without any beverages. Doesn’t surprise him even an iota, and as they trek back to the dorm with a long, unending rant from Bruno about how ‘the world is crumbling around them’.

Bruno is still ranting once inside their room, and Boots sighs, taking his freezing cold hands and shoving them down the back of Bruno’s shirt.

“Holy shit!” Bruno shrieks, batting the hands away, and then immediately tugging them back with his own hands. “That’s worrying how cold your hands are.”

Boots gets pulled onto the couch with Bruno and he continues to rant, but Boots doesn’t mind as much while Bruno is trying to warm his hands.

It’s pretty stupid to walk to Starbucks without any winter clothes, but Boots isn’t as upset as he thought he might be.

[]

Boots is waiting backstage with Bruno, as always. Bruno’s already got on the outfit for his character, tugging at the collar and making faces. Boots is leaning against his table, watching Bruno look at himself in the mirror.

They’re waiting for Alicia, the girl who always does Bruno’s make-up. It’s a new show, tonight’s the premiere. Boots isn’t technically supposed to be backstage but no one has ever thought to stop him.

This time though, Bruno doesn’t have his usual expression of eager confidence, so Boots is frowning as he watches him. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” Bruno scoffs immediately, not looking at him, still focused on the mirror as he teases his hair. Boots had tried distracting him with their favorite game of Would You Rather, but Bruno hadn’t been a particularly willing participant (Boots had asked if he’d rather have a pet snake or pet walrus—walrus, of course—and Bruno had asked if he’d rather have coffee or tea. Boots had just stared at him.)

Someone crosses behind them, stuck in the arm of their costume, and Boots laughs. Bruno doesn’t appear to notice.

“Bruno—“ Boots starts again, and is cut off by Alicia rushing over.

“Bruno, I’m sorry, I’ve got an emergency with Paul’s fake nose. Boots, you’ve got a hand for make-up, right? You’ve seen what I put on him during the dress rehearsals?” Alicia says in a rush, pleading with Boots.

“Sure.” Boots shrugs. “Just foundation, that anti-shiny stuff, a bit of eyeliner, some lip stuff, right?”

“Yes.” Alicia heaves a relieved sigh. “I’ll come look before you get on stage, Bruno, okay?”

Bruno just nods and Alicia rushes off, pushing her make-up bag into Boots hands.

“I’ll try not to poke your eye out.” Boots jokes. He doesn’t get much of a reaction and Boots sighs, spinning Bruno’s chair to face Boots instead of the mirror. He digs in the bag and gets out the foundation and begins. He’s helped out Alicia once or twice, symptom of always waiting around with Bruno while he gets ready for his shows. Lesser men would be embarrassed that they know their way around a make-up brush, but Boots grew up with Bruno and this is nowhere near the weirdest skill he’s acquired over the years.

Bruno is terrible at holding still for make-up, Alicia usually resorts to holding his head with one hand. Boots isn’t skilled enough for that.

Bruno tries to twist his neck in the collar and Boots hums. “Bruno, don’t move.”

Bruno huffs, and Boots can feel it, their faces close as Boots carefully paints the foundation on. Bruno’s eyes are trying to focus behind Boots, a slight heat at the height of his cheekbones.

“Stop moving.” Boots says, smiling despite himself, as Bruno tries to squirm again.

“You try getting covered in makeup.” Bruno pouts.

Boots laughs a little, brushing a powder over his cheeks. His skin is smooth and unblemished, the perfect face for an actor. “So what’s up with you, then?” Boots asks again, taking advantage of how close their faces are, forcing Bruno to look him in the eye.

Bruno scrunches his nose, and Boots swats the brush at him to stop. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit. What’s wrong?” Boots says, watching Bruno look away, and finally understanding. “Wait, are you nervous?”

“I don’t get nervous.” Bruno says instantly, but he’s still not looking at Boots.

It’s Boots’ turn to huff. “You’re allowed to be nervous. It’s fine. It’s a new show, you’ve got a huge part.”

“Not nervous.” Bruno says again. “Just…”

“Look up.” Boots tells him, and starts tracing eyeliner when he does. “Bruno, you’ll do great. I’ve seen you practice, you love this character.”

“Bruno Walton doesn’t get nervous.” He tries again, looking down at Boots’ command. Boots’ careful hands trace more eyeliner on top.

“You don’t have to be perfect.” Boots says. “It’s a lot of lines. And it’s only a university performance. You won’t get lynched.”

Bruno makes a face and Boots swats at him again. “Dammit Bruno, be still.”

“I…” Bruno sighs. “I might be nervous.”

“Just relax.”

“Do you know what would make me feel better?” Bruno says, eyes suddenly lighting with an idea.

Boots pauses, mere centimeters from his face, raising an eyebrow. “Not the fireworks.”

A huge grin spreads across Bruno’s previously somber face.

It doesn’t take long to set them up, and by the time Bruno is lining up to get on the stage, he’s beaming and any trace of nervousness is gone. Despite the sheer stupidity of setting up the fireworks with him, Boots feels like a weight is lifted off his chest at the confidant, eager look on Bruno’s face.

Worth the damage fees they end up having to pay.

[]

Boots didn’t bring his laptop to class today, and Bruno borrows it for just, like, five minutes. He wanted to check his university email to see if he had his Poli Sci class today—he didn’t, the professor was still sick—and he was grinning to himself, thinking of a free afternoon, and his foots slips. Bruno falls on his ass and the laptop clatters to the floor, splitting into a couple pieces.

Horror runs through Bruno. “No, shit, no!” he scrambles over, tailbone aching. He knows next to nothing about computers, but it might be able to be fixed. He just doesn’t know how.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Bruno looks around frantically, but no one else is there of course. Boots’ class is done in two hours. He can do this. He can fix this. He does not want to tell Boots that he broke the laptop that Boots had saved for ages to be able to afford.

Bruno carefully lays the pieces into a bag and calls Elmer. He’s across the world right now, but he still answers his phone.

“I broke Boots’ computer.” Bruno says in a rush, instead of hello. “How do I fix it?”

“What is wrong with it?” Elmer says, unperturbed.

“It’s in pieces!” Bruno despairs.

Elmer hums. “If I was there, I could put it back together, but I’m not. I could find a way to explain but it might take a while.”

“I don’t have a while.” Bruno whines, and then sighs. “I’ll go look around, see if anyone else knows how. Thanks Elmer.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Elmer tells him, and Bruno waves him off.

Bruno is pretty frantic, because he doesn’t want to see the look on Boots’ face, or God forbid if he had an essay saved on there that he needed soon, so he goes knocking on doors, even to the ones he doesn’t know.

“Do you know how to fix a laptop?” He asks.

“Yeah.” The weird guy who lives next door says. Bruno shows him the pieces and his face falls. “Oh, never mind.”

He tries the next door. And the next. By the end of the hall he’s just knocking and presenting the broken pieces with a heartbroken face.

Donna, the girl with the green hair, makes a face at the sight, but does perk up a little. “I haven’t a clue, but my roommate does! She’s a comp sci major.”

“Great!” Bruno picks up immediately. “Can I talk to her?”

Donna’s face falls. “She’s in class.”

“It’s an emergency.” Bruno tells her.

Donna purses her lips. “I could text her.”

“I’d really, really appreciate it.”

Donna does, and her roommate Kelly asks for a picture to be texted to her, so they line up the parts and snap a shot. Then they get a text back that reads, ‘I’m not good at the physical part, but my friend Drew is. Is that Bruno Walton asking?’

Donna replies in affirmative, and Kelly says, ‘I’ll give him Drew’s number if he agrees to pretend to be my date for that dumb art show so I don’t have to go with Eli.’

Bruno heaves a sigh. “Yes, okay, sure.” Donna relays and Bruno gets the number.

Bruno dials it right away. The guy picks up, and Bruno launches immediately into, “Hi, Kelly said that you can fix computers?”

The guy sounds lazy and tired. “Yeah.”

“I’ve got one in like ten pieces. Can you fix it?”

“If you bring twenty pieces of McNuggets.”

“Done. Where are you?” Bruno agrees.

He gets the address, hangs up, and then pulls out his wallet. “Shit, I don’t have enough for twenty McNuggets.”

Donna rolls her eyes. “I’ll spot you some money if you’ll pay me back.”

“I will, I promise!” Bruno accepts the money and takes the laptop pieces out of the dorm, looking at the time and swearing. He doesn’t have long to get this fixed now. He waits in line for McDonalds with a constantly tapping foot. Boots texts him, innocently enough as he does when he’s bored in class, ‘Would you rather have gills or fins?’.

Bruno feels like laughing hysterically, holding his best friend’s shattered laptop and texting back ‘fins, duh’ instead of ‘IM SO SORRY’ like he should.

Drew lives a couple dorms over, and lets Bruno in with hooded eyes and grabby hands for the McNuggets. Then he takes the pieces of the laptop and hums, setting them down and attacking them with a greasy screwdriver.

Bruno looks at the clock and thinks he might actually make it in time. He innocently texts Boots, ‘would rather have Chinese or pizza for dinner? Either way can u pick it up on your way home’.

Sitting in a strange apartment after jumping through hoops to fix his stupid mistake, Bruno hopes he takes the bait.

Boots texts back quickly enough, ‘Chinese, see you in a bit’ with a sarcastic ‘xoxox’.

At the time Boots gets out of class Bruno is starting to feel antsy, figuring the food will only buy him an extra fifteen minutes and he needs at least five of those to get back to the dorm. “Almost done?” he asks Drew.

Drew hums, still steadily eating all of the McNuggets. “Almost.”

Bruno fidgets and thinks maybe he can have this like it never happened, and Boots will never know.

“Done.” Drew says and Bruno jumps up. He has seven minutes.

“Great, thank you!” He takes the laptop, completely in one piece with a functioning start-up screen, and hurries back to his dorm. He gets the laptop where he left it, and is sitting on the couch thirty seconds before Boots walks in with Chinese food.

“Hey, great, Chinese.” Bruno says, as if this afternoon never happened.

“Got your lemon chicken.” Boots replies, placing the Chinese on the counter, and his bag on the floor. He pats his laptop as he passes it, “Hey, you got it fixed already.”

Bruno freezes. “What?”

Boots is grinning at him from across the room.

“How’d you know?” Bruno despairs, slumping.

Boots laughs. “You think you can go knocking on every room in the dorm and have no one tell me? I got like three texts within ten minutes.”

Bruno buries his face in his hands. “People suck.”

“Hey, thanks though, for going to the trouble.” Boots says, opening it and making a pleased sound when it worked fine.

“I wasn’t gonna leave it broken.” Bruno replies, affronted. “I was stupid enough to drop it in the first place.”

“Still, thanks.” Boots says, then tugs out the food.

[]

A week before the dorm’s Christmas party Bruno accidently started up a service where he’d trap requested people under mistletoe. It was a booming success and the two of them had a list of over fifty pairs they needed to get under the mistletoe during the party (and a neat couple hundred dollars). It was the talk of the dorm, people anticipating and dreading the party. Bruno had bought bunches of mistletoe, in case they need extras, and Boots was helping because it was easier than fighting it. It actually sounded a little fun.

Bruno and Boots were greeted heartily when they arrived, fellow dorm mates quickly asking if they’re request was going to be met, and the two assured everyone that they would absolutely be attempting to get everyone on the list.

It goes actually really well, since everyone had a lot of warning that it was going to happen, Boots is met with well-meaning looks when he approaches people. It’s a big dorm so sometimes he has to ask the names of people to make sure he’s accosting the correct couple, which is treated with good humor as well. As a result of trying to get everyone on the list, Boots doesn’t actually see Bruno almost for the whole night.

Boots has his fair share of drinks though, and he’s managed almost twenty three out of his half. By now, if people see him coming they crowd around and tease the couple being made to kiss.

Bruno texts him to make sure he’s getting his part done, then moves onto ‘would you rather be under mistletoe with a duck or a goose’.

Boots replies ‘what’s the difference’.

He doesn’t get an answer, but he does actually see Bruno through the crowds. 

Bruno gets to him first. “I got the Drew kid to turn extraordinarily red.”

“Who’s Drew?” Boots asks, and Bruno opens his mouth to explain.

“Hey boys.” Donna, with the green hair, is leaning over them with a wicked grin. “Look up.”

Boots feels a strange, knowing horror come into his veins, and he looks up to see Donna suspending some mistletoe over the two of them. The entire room is looking at them, and goes, “Oooooh!”

Boots gives Bruno his thickest deadpan. “Is it too late to pick the duck?”

Bruno laughs, and grabs either side of Boots’ face, giving him a drunken kiss on the mouth.

Boots finds his hands have grabbed Bruno’s shirt and his knees have gone weak, but it’s over before the count of ten. The room is cheering and cat-calling, and Boots gives them the finger. Bruno winks at him, and he rolls his eyes.

They move on, but the butterflies rioting in Boots’ stomach don’t. He blames it on the alcohol. This whole mistletoe thing was a stupid idea anyway.

[]

“Boots? Hey, uh, I think you should wake up, we did something stupid.”

Boots raises his hands to his eyes and rubs them, thoroughly hung-over. He doesn’t remember. “When don’t we?”

“This is really stupid.”

Something in Bruno’s voice makes him pry his hands away, blinking into the light. He knows they’re in Vegas, they came for Spring Break. The hotel is the same they’ve been staying in all week. Bruno is sitting on the bed next to him.

“What is it?” Boots says, leaning up on his elbows.

“I’d hate to say it Boots but I am fifty percent sure we might have gotten married last night.”

Boots just stares at him. Bruno meets his gaze flatly.

Boots spots a paper on the bedside table and tugs on it, revealing a marriage certificate. With their names on it.

Bruno looks at it. “Ninety percent sure.” He says.

“Okay.” Boots says, and leans forward and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes roughly. “Why, though?”

“If I remember correctly, which I very well might not,” Bruno says, and looks at Boots in the pause. “Tax benefits.”

“Okay.” Boots replies yet again. Then looks at his hands. “Alright. I’m sure drunk-us thought that was a great idea.”

“Hell.” Bruno sighs. “That does sound like drunk-us.”

“Drunk-us are assholes.” Boots agrees. “We don’t have to tell anyone, we’ll get a divorce when we get home.”

“Okay.” Bruno shrugs, throwing the certificate in his suitcase.

And. Well, when they got home they had all of the homework they didn’t do while in Vegas, and then tests and essays and midterms and a divorce just… never happened. It slipped their mind.

[]

“What on earth is this?” Boots asks, sitting at their dorm table going through their mail. “An acknowledgement of entry… you entered us in a contest?”

Bruno suddenly looks uncomfortable. “Um.”

Boots looks closer. “This is for married people.”

“Well…” Bruno begins and Boots thumps his head on the table.

“Shit. I suppose we are, aren’t we?” Boots groans, and looks at the contest. “Could we really win a cruise?”

Bruno nods, carefully. “You’re not mad?”

“About you saying we’re married? Well, Bruno, you’re not lying. It is a thing we did.” Boots tells him. Bruno is still looking shifty. “What? What’s wrong?”

Bruno shrugs one shoulder, then looks up suddenly, “Would you rather,” he begins, and Boots waits. “Stay married to me, or get a divorce?”

The weight of the question is beyond their usual dumb game, and Boots stares at him from across the counter.

“Are you being serious?” Boots has to ask, since this is Bruno.

Bruno nods, uncomfortably, picking at the letters in front of them,

“Which would _you_ rather?” Boots shoots back.

“Well,” Bruno flickers his eyes to his face, turning red slowly. “You.”

Boots inspects him carefully. “Is this your way of asking me out?”

Bruno now turns red very quickly. He doesn’t need to respond.

Boots laughs. “You’re going about it all wrong, Bruno, you’re supposed to date before you get married.”

Bruno ducks his head, and Boots leans his hands on the counter to reach his best friend, giving him a kiss. It sends those butterflies through his stomach again and he knows he’s making the right choice. “I’d rather have you too.”

A grin immediately blooms across Bruno’s face. “Great! Wanna get pizza?”

Boots rolls his eyes. “Yeah, let’s go get pizza.”

Bruno slides around the counter and kisses him this time, pressing up on his toes since he’s shorter and kissing Boots with all his enthusiasm. “Now we can have benefits better than taxes.” Bruno says, and it’s Boots’ turn to blush.

 


End file.
